


Puppy Tails - Walking the Streets

by Aurora_bee



Series: Puppy tails [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, Gen, Humor, Puppies, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets John to do something very weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Tails - Walking the Streets

“No, no, no.” John cried as he was pushed on to the sofa. Sherlock shoved his knee into his back. “Seriously Sherlock I don’t want to do this.” Sherlock pulled the cords harder emitting an exhausted grunt.

“Who else is going to do it John.” Sherlock tied the cords into a neat bow and John bared his teeth. He looked down at the corset he had just been forced into as Sherlock inserted some socks into the cups.

“Sherlock I’m a man, admittedly not a particularly attractive one.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “But there is no way in hell I’m going to pull off pretending to be a prostitute. Why don’t you do it?” John smiled hopefully while trying to pull the cord loose so he could breathe. Sherlock smacked his hand away.

“Well although I would most certainly be the more attractive of the two of us. I think a six foot one prostitute would stand out. You will blend in John.” Sherlock pulled a pair of support pants out of his bag.

“Oh no, please.. Don’t make me put those on too.” John put his head in his hands, he could feel his eyes watering from the thought of it.

 

Sherlock pushed John or ‘Joan’ out of the front door. John wobbled a bit before he got used to standing in heels. This was ridiculous, no-one in their right mind was going to try and pick him up. Even though Sherlock had done a rather spectacular job with his makeup. 

“I hate you Sherlock, you know I can taste my own testicles they’ve retracted so far into my body.” Sherlock huffed and grabbed John’s hand.

“Please at least try and sound feminine.” Sherlock whispered, John growled. 

“Fine.” He coughed a little and tried for something in the mid tone range. “How’s this Mr Holmes.” He said completely straight laced as he grabbed Sherlock’s collar and pulled him close so that their lips were inches apart.

“Uhm… Very good John I mean Joan.” Sherlock pulled back awkwardly as John let out a little smile. This could actually be quite fun if he played his cards right. John put his arm through Sherlock’s who looked questioningly at him.

“It will help me balance.” John said in his own voice. They walked for a hundred meters before John demanded a taxi. They sat silently as the cabby stared into the mirror occasionally with a look of confusion. 

 

It didn't take long before they reached their destination, a shady street corner. Sherlock paid the taxi as John walked over to the wall and took off his shoe.

“My feet are killing me Sherlock, how do women wear these damned things.” He rubbed his foot. “I think I’m getting a bunion.” Sherlock turned to face him and ignored him, he slumped next to him against the wall. “People are going to think you’re my pimp if you stay here.”

“For the purpose of character I am. Now act slutty.” John burst out laughing. Flung his handbag over his shoulder and flashed his leg at the next passing car. As he expected it didn’t stop.

“Why are we doing this anyway Sherlock? Couldn’t Donovan done it?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Ah yeah right. She hates your guts.” Sherlock smiled.

“Lestrade also said that our suspect like’s something a bit unusual.” John gritted his teeth. What hadn’t Sherlock told him now?

“Right, and what do you mean by unusual?” His hand was balling into a fist as Sherlock stepped away.

“Transvestites John.” John really should have gone with Sherlock to see the crime scene, but Gladstone was being particularly clingy that day since Sherlock accidentally shut him in the bathroom. 

“Great, bloody great. I don’t particularly want to be buggered then murdered.” He snapped. Sherlock looked him in the eye.

“Do you think I would actually let anyone touch you?” Sherlock frowned angrily.

“I’m sorry Sherlock.” Sherlock looked down the street and said nothing. So John was dressed up like a hooker standing on a street corner for a ‘John’ and it was somehow all his fault. He sighed letting his head rest against the wall behind him. God he hated his name.

 

Three hours they had been waiting, cars had driven by but none stopped. No conversation from Sherlock, guilt building up inside him. John was seriously considering walking home, heels and all. A car pulled up to the curb, nice, European because it was a left hand drive. Sherlock nodded to John and he walked in the direction of the car. The window wound down and a hand shoed him away. A chubby finger pointed toward Sherlock and beckoned him. The surprise was evident in his eyes as he walked over. He leaned into the window. John couldn’t hear what was said. But he saw the chubby fingers run through Sherlock’s hair.

Anger rose through him and his breathing deepened. ‘Stay calm’ he thought keeping his eyes on them all the time. It might not be him he said to himself. 

Sherlock took in a sharp breath as lips pressed against his and a tongue touched his lips. The next thing he knew he was flung to the ground, the car door was open and a very distraught looking John was beating the crap out of the driver. 

“YOU..” John punched the driver hard in the face. “DON’T..” He punched him again. “GET..” John’s knuckles were bleeding now. “TO..” He broke the driver’s front teeth with the next punch. “TOUCH!” The driver was now an unconscious mess. John looked Sherlock in the eye.

“You phone Lestrade now, and then we’re going bloody home.” Sherlock got up off the pavement composed himself and made the call.

 

Fortunately for John it turned out that the driver of the car was in fact the killer. He’d had his murder kit in the boot ready to use on his next fancy. After Lestrade had finished laughing at John’s outfit he had suggested John go to the hospital. John growled looking at Sherlock.

“I think we’d better go home actually, Gladstone needs to be fed.” Sherlock mumbled. Miraculously Sherlock managed to find a taxi to get them home. John flung his shoes off at the door and trudged up the stairs. He headed for the kettle, he really needed a strong cup of tea. 

Gladstone trundled over to them, looked around and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him to Sherlock’s bedroom. Funny smells, dad looking weird and stressed, uncle Sherlock being really quiet. He really needed to hide.

“Have a shower.” John said looking at Sherlock.

“I don’t really need a shower John.” He replied, John looked him in the eye, and Sherlock realised it wasn’t a question. “Right then.” Sherlock moved carefully past John, as if he was a wild tiger ready to pounce. He closed the bathroom door and locked it behind him. He looked at the counter, thank god John had bought a new tube of toothpaste yesterday, he was going to need it.

John sat in his chair hissing at the sting in his hand. He had a gulp of hot tea and relaxed. He’d take the outfit off later.

**Author's Note:**

> I needed an image to work with for this so I did a quick dirty manip. Not one of my best but it helped. Made me laugh quite a bit too. I give you prostitute John.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v223/aurora_bee/?action=view&current=pros2.jpg)  
> 


End file.
